


You'll Be Okay By My Side.

by halelujah



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Angst, Bruce Banner & Tony Stark Friendship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Howard Stark's Bad Parenting, Kid Fic, M/M, Steve is so not impressed, both Sam and Bucky get de-aged, is why Tony is terrifed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-19 23:23:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10650213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halelujah/pseuds/halelujah
Summary: Usually Thor’s brother was to be blamed when something outside of aliens and superhumans with powers weren’t the cause. This time however, it was Howard Stark’s fault.





	You'll Be Okay By My Side.

**Author's Note:**

> Just posting my fics from Tumblr on AO3 to keep them all in one place.

  
Usually Thor’s brother was to be blamed when something outside of aliens and superhumans with powers weren’t the cause. This time however, it was Howard Stark’s fault.

Why his father had a de-ageing machine in his belongings, he’d never know.

“You just _had_ to touch something, didn’t you?” Tony asks, glaring halfheartedly over at Bucky.

Bucky shrugged guiltily, the shirt he was wearing, literally like a dress around his small frame. “In my ‘fence, it was really _shiny_.”

Tony rubs his hand over his face and sighs in equal parts exasperation and heart melting resignation. Steve wasn’t going to be happy about this.

A tug on his pant leg has Tony looking down into warm brown eyes and a somewhat toothy grin since teeth were missing.

“Up?” Sam asks, chubby hands held up above his head, fingers wiggling.

Steve wasn’t going to be happy at all.

~

Predictably, Steve wasn’t impressed.

“What.” He says, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Look, this has nothing to do with me. It was Howard’s project.” Tony says, bouncing the bundle of toddler in his arms, smiling when he receives a happy giggle for his efforts. “I was moving some of his crap and had some of it here in the workshop. Why Bucky and Sam were in there, I don’t know, but somehow the machine zapped them and as they say, the rest is history.”

It’s silent between them, both Tony and Steve trying to wrap their minds around the fact that their boyfriends we’re currently under the height requirements for amusement rides.

“You’re such a punk, you know that?” Steve sighs fondly down at the six year old playing at their feet. A frown creases his features as he stares. “Why is Bucky a child while Sam is a baby?”

“I happen to know the answer to that,” Tony mumbles around Sam’s fingers, that happened to shove themselves into his open mouth three seconds before. He pretends to bite at them, earning himself another happy giggle. “Considering Bucky is technically an old man such as yourself, he had a lot more years to lose, my pudding pop here, not so much.”

“ ’m _not_ an old man.” Bucky protests, a pout pulling at his lips. He snaps his gaze up at Steve, eyes watery around the edges when all Tony does is grin cheekily at him. “Tell him Steve!”

While Steve tries not to melt and glare at Tony on Bucky’s behalf, two arms fly up and smack him in the nose.

~

“Considering you’ve never been around many children, you’re handling this very well.” Bruce tells him, keeping an eye on Sam crawling around on the table between them.

“Oh, don’t let the calm facade fool you.” Tony chuckles weakly, fiddling around with his tie to avoid eye contact. “I freaked out and had Friday bring up everything there was on looking after small sized humans. I’m still freaking out to be honest. Twenty four hours ago I didn’t even know how to hold a baby, little alone change one.”

Tony stops Sam from getting too close to the edge, redirects his route back towards to the centre of the table where it’s safer. Bruce is silent and it unnerves him.

“You’re not your father, Tony.” He murmurs, when the silence has stretched further than he appreciates. “You’re not gonna hurt Sam or any of the hypothetical children you’re currently thinking of.”

Sometimes Bruce was too smart for his own good. Or maybe he just knew Tony more than he liked to believe.

“ _Bullsh_ –” he pauses and takes a moment to rethink his words. Babies repeated what they heard, right? Hearing Sam swear around Steve in this condition might give the old man an ulcer. “That’s total crap and you know it.” He says, clenching his hands around the table. “Even if Sam and I were ready for that commitment, I should never be in charge of raising someone. The kid will end up worser than I am now.”

“You can’t be sure of that.”

“ _The hell I can’t_!” He snaps, trying to hold the rage and self loathing at bay. “I’m an alcoholic insomniac, that suffers from PTSD and cares more about his next project than anything else. That’s not father material and I’m not going to be selfish and put that on someone that doesn’t know any better.”

Sam was now sitting in the centre of them, clearly picking up on the change of atmosphere around him. He’s staring at Tony with wide eyes and a trembling lower lip, looking like he’s seconds away from bursting into tears. If that wasn’t proof enough that he wasn’t fit to be a parent, he didn’t know what was.

“See?” He gestures at Sam, trying to breathe through the panic. “Like father like son. He could never show any affection for me –”

He pauses again, lets out an ugly snort and pushed away from the table, ignores the way his chest burns brighter than it did, when he had the reactor pressing against his lungs. A whimper reaches his ears and he closes his eyes at the sound. He just wanted Sam back, just wanted to be in their bed with his boyfriend wrapped around him like a buffer.

“Tony,” Bruce says from behind him.

He shakes his head and goes to leave. “Just – just look after him, please? I need to figure out the time frame we have until their back to their potty trained selves or if I have to reverse it myself.”

A loud wail cuts through whatever response Bruce had and has Tony nearly throwing himself across the room towards the table.

“That’s gonna be a problem,” the other scientist smiles, indicating with a tilt of his chin. “I don’t think he agrees with that plan.”

Sam let out another wail, hands reaching out for Tony as tears run down chubby cheeks. He couldn’t stop himself from rushing over even if he tried.

“Hey, hey, hey.” He soothes, picking him up and cuddling Sam close. “What’s wrong, pudding pop?”

Fingers frame his cheeks as Sam presses sloppy kisses over his chin. “ ‘tay.”

Tony’s shoulders slump. He has no idea if Sam can understand what’s going on around him, but from that one little word, he guesses he does. And he’s helpless not to obey.

~

With Sam’s protest of being separated from Tony, - which he’s kinda glad at, Sam over the year that they’d been dating, had become a lighthouse in his ocean of issues and anxieties - it wasn’t odd to see them together.

Natasha has more than proven herself as an assassin spy, but the sneaky photos of he and Sam that would appear on his workshop table would be alarming, if they weren’t so cute.

Tony has Sam settled on his lap as he goes through each photo. He laughs at one, where it shows a grinning Sam running from a silly string covered Clint, who’s glaring at a shrugging Tony, Bucky on the floor with his arms wrapped around his body, laughing wildly.

Another one is of Sam shyly holding out a purple coloured cat to an amused T'Challa, Tony in the background looking like he’s two seconds away from clutching his chest at the cute.

To be fair, he was, but no one needed to know.

Other photos range from Tony trying to feed Sam pumpkin soup and ending up wearing it instead. Of Sam riding on Tony’s shoulders around the Tower. He and Sam snuggled under a mass of blankets and pillows, Pocahontas playing on the large screen in front of them.

The last one however has him nearly falling out of his seat.

“How the _hell_ did she get a photo of bath time?!”

It’s a particularly crappy day for everyone, Tony most of all.

“Merchant of Death,” he mutters, glaring up at the ceiling. “Always comes back to that, doesn’t it, pudding pop?”

Sam predictably doesn’t say anything, one being because he’s a toddler. Secondly he’s finally settled down for a nap, after fussing for two hours and refusing to fall asleep. He’d ended up pleading Sam to calm down, still feeling raw after that reporter tore his defences to shreds and dug sharp barbs into flesh and sinew.

Every fact that he had spat out, Tony supposed maybe he still was the Merchant of Death. Even though he had stopped manufacturing weapons, wherever the Suit went, people still died. People still condemned what he thought was a saving grace.

Steve had ended up literally standing between the shouting reporters and Tony, using his build to block them from getting any closer like a… He snorts loudly. _Like a shield_.

It didn’t work that much, he could still hear them, but he appreciates it all the same. Even told Steve as much.

“You’ve more than made up for your mistakes, Tony. Hell, you even accepted them as your own and decided to fix them.” Steve tells him when they’re finally alone in the limo, driving back to the Tower. “Not many people do that nowadays. It’s always someone else’s fault. Be proud of the fact that you’re trying to right a wrong.”

_Trying being the operative word_ , he had thought to himself.

Now, all he wants is his Sam back. Sure, having baby Sam nestled on his chest, little socked feet twitching now and again at his stomach, soothes him, Tony misses his boyfriend’s voice. The way he could bring Tony back from an episode with soft touches.

His smile and laugh. His everything.

Sighing, Tony runs a gentle palm down Sam’s spine. “Wish you were back to your thirty eight year old self.”

It’s almost as if the powers that be heard him.

There’s no flash of light, no burst of glitter or puff of smoke. One second he has a baby on his chest, then the next he has a fully grown naked man pinning him to the couch.

“Thirty seven, thank you.” Sam murmurs into his neck after shifting his weight around. He’s now laying in between Tony’s legs, arms wrapped around his middle and head resting comfortably on his chest.

“Sam?” He asks, disbelief colouring his voice.

“Talk later,” he mumbles, pulling the blankets around them tighter. “Nap time.”

Silently obeying, Tony grabs his phone, holds it above Sam’s head and texts Steve, if Bucky is back to his normal self.

_Yeah, he is and I don’t think he appreciates sitting in a bathtub, surrounded by bubbles and toy soldiers like his younger self did._

Biting his tongue, Tony tries not to wake Sam up with his laughter.

“I remember, you know? I remember every minute after the machine went off on Bucky and I.” Sam whispers into his hair that night, his arms wrapped around Tony, caging him in and keeping him safe. “How you freaked and asked Friday to look at everything baby related, how you begged me not to cry when you held me the first time.”

Tony freezes, feeling embarrassed and slightly afraid that Sam was going to call it quits, now that he knew how useless and wrong Tony was to be a father.

“Tony, look at me, darling.” Sam murmurs, nuzzling at his cheek with his nose.

It takes him several seconds, maybe even minutes before their gazes meet. Sam smiles and leans in close, brushes their mouth together in a gentle kiss. One that he doesn’t pull away from, until Tony sighs softly against his lips.

“ _When_ we decide to become parents, I have no doubt in my mind, that you’re gonna the best father you can be.” He tells Tony.

Sam must feel him flinch in his arms, like he’s thinking about getting up and leaving, which he was. He quickly tightens his hold to keep him close.

“I’m serious, Tony. If I hadn’t seen what you’re capable of, the videos Friday showed me and what the team told me, that would have been enough.” He explains, pressing light kisses against his shoulder. “What you told Bruce is a legitimate fear and I understand that, but you honestly have no reason to doubt yourself.”

“I _will_ fuck up.” Tony says weakly, smile brittle around the edges. “There’s a guarantee I will.”

“Maybe you will and maybe you don’t. But that’s okay, because maybe I will too.” Sam reassures. “You won’t be doing it by yourself, darling. I’ll be right there beside you. Every step of the way.”

“I love you, you know that?” Tony whispers, ignoring the way his eyes are going a little blurry.

He gets that smile he’s missed so much. “I love you too.”

“Damn, that’s cute.” Clint sighs, startling Sam where he’s sitting on the couch.

“You need to stop using the vents to get around,” he says, not bothering to hide the photo he’s holding. “You’re gonna give someone a heart attack.”

“Hasn’t happened yet,” comes the reply from the vent above him. There’s laughter in his voice. “Nat take that photo?”

Sam nods, fingers tracing over it, a smile playing on his face. “It’s my favourite. Found it in Tony’s workshop.”

It’s of he and Tony in the bathroom, a younger him in the bathtub, bubbles in his hair and surrounding him. He’s pointing at something and looking at the camera, probably noticing Natasha, but Tony doesn’t seem to notice or care.

There’s a content smile playing on his face, despite spending the entire day in meeting after meeting. Tony’s still dressed in the suit he wore that day, his shirt unbuttoned and open, showing off the white tank top underneath.

His once pressed and wrinkle free slacks are wet from what Sam can tell was his happy splashes, but he looks happy. He’s leaning against the wall beside the tub, eyes warm and wondrous, like he can’t understand how his life has come to this point.

It’s a beautiful sight to gaze at.

“He let you and Barnes back in there?” Clint asks, bringing him back to the present.

He grins. “Had to persuade him, but yeah.”

“ _Gross_.”

Sam laughs and tucks the photo back into his wallet for safe keeping. It’s something to look forward to in the future.

And he honestly can’t wait.


End file.
